Number 4 Privet Drive
by Ellen Smock
Summary: Previously published under the name Eliza DoLots. An attempt to explain Petunia. This story will remain incomplete so don't look for more! . Heavily implied abuse spouse and child . Reviews are certainly welcome.
1. Chapter 1

Vernon Dursley couldn't recall exactly when he realized the Love Potion no longer worked. He just knew, now, that it didn't work. It seemed to start sometime after the baby was born, but Vernon wasn't sure exactly when or how it had happened. There was no mistaking it though, Petunia didn't love him anymore.

Petunia was, however, afraid of him. In some ways, that was much more satisfying. The sobs of self hatred and unworthiness that used to escape her lips when he corrected her behavior had been replaced with screams of real fear and pain. Yes, that was much more satisfying.

Of course, she'd become much better at avoiding being corrected since the change. Before Dudley, Petunia seemed almost blind to the mistakes she made—the poor clothing choices, the time spent gossiping with neighbors that should have been devoted to him, the boring meals she prepared—she always seemed surprised to find she had done wrong.

No, the new Petunia was at least a bit smarter about things. She still needed to improve her cooking and Vernon had spared no effort in getting her to see that, but she had stopped wasting time with the neighbors and had realized that the clothes she had were enough, it was not right for her to go out and buy a new outfit every few months. Style wasn't important anymore. She was his wife and as long as he was happy with her clothes, she should be.

The birth of young Dudley had brought the need to correct many of Petunia's ideas. First, she had gotten it into her head that she would use a diaper service. As though Vernon was going to pay somebody else to wash diapers when her parents had given them a perfectly good washing machine. Then, she had taken to staying in the house all day, spying on the neighbors but rarely venturing out to do more than a bit of shopping. Vernon wasn't stupid. He knew what people would think of that. It had taken a bit of convincing, but at least Petunia seemed to have a friend now. Vernon had never met this "Yvonne" person she mentioned but he didn't care. As long as Petunia was getting out a bit and being seen, he wouldn't be worrying about his reputation in the neighborhood. Once or twice, he'd even allowed Petunia to go out and spend a weekend day with Yvonne—and the baby of course, wanting to spend time with her friend was fine, but only if she kept up her child care duties. Vernon felt it was very big of him to not insist Petunia only see Yvonne when he was at work. Petunia was lucky he wasn't a more controlling husband. His father would never have let his mother even leave the house without him on a weekend. Yes, Petunia was quite lucky indeed.

Now that Dudley was getting older, learning to walk and talk, Vernon thought it was time to remind Petunia of her place in the house. No Dursley man, however young, would be criticized or belittled by a woman. If the boy needed discipline, then Vernon would provide the discipline. Petunia's job was to see to his happiness, nothing more. If she kept the boy happy, then all would be well in the house. If Dudley were unhappy, well, a mother should share her son's feelings then, shouldn't she?

The next day was Halloween. Stupid day. Vernon was glad the English were sensible folk and didn't go parading about in costumes like those silly Americans he saw on the telly.

But, this wasn't an ordinary Halloween, and much to Vernon's distress, it did seem the good solid Englishmen were, indeed parading about in costumes. One of the most outlandish of them had said the name "Harry Potter". Vernon had heard that name. Yes, he was quite sure that Petunia's sister was named Potter now and he thought that she'd recently had a baby she named Harry. How Petunia got information about her sister was a mystery to Vernon, but she seemed to get it.

Shortly after they'd gotten married, Vernon had taken to inquiring about Petunia's sister. He wanted to make sure there was no danger of her coming to their house and ruining everything. Every few weeks he'd ask if Petunia'd heard from her. As the answer was always no, there had been no reason for Vernon to take any action. Then one day Petunia had not said "No, of course not." She had said "She sent a wedding invitation." Vernon had frozen in his tracks. But, this was when the Potion was still working and Vernon need not have worried. Petunia explained that her sister was marrying someone called James Potter and had dared to invite them to what would certainly be an unnatural ceremony of some sort. Petunia hadn't even bothered to reply, she'd simply thrown the offending invitation down the disposal.

Alas, things had certainly changed. Earlier this year he'd asked about Petunia's sister and had received the startling news that Lily Potter had given birth to a baby. Vernon was quite sure Petunia had said the name was "Harry". It was a bit difficult to recall exactly what was said in that conversation because Vernon was understandably upset that his wife was encouraging any contact at all with her unnatural relative. As her husband, it had been his job to show her the mistake she had made so she would never repeat it. Ever. Vernon took quite a bit of pride in the fact that since that unfortunate episode, when he inquired about Petunia's sister, the response was a fearful shake of the head and whimpered "No, of course not."

Yet, Vernon wasn't one hundred percent sure the child's name was Harry. Perhaps the outlandishly dressed man was talking about someone else entirely. Vernon made up his mind to forget the whole thing when the man on the television news started discussing all sorts of bizarre occurrences. Flocks of owls, showers of fireworks. It was, to say the least, unnatural.

Vernon decided he'd better confirm the one bit of information he was unsure of.

"Er -- Petunia, dear -- you haven't heard from your sister

lately, have you?"

This wasn't how he usually phrased his question and he knew she would be concerned about the difference.

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting

stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you

know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips.

"Their son -- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley. "Yes, I quite agree."

Damn. Well, there it was. Vernon had a moment's regret at having caused Petunia such discomfort. They routinely pretended Petunia didn't have a sister and any discussions about her were confined to one question with a one word answer. Petunia was likely afraid there would be repercussions for this extended exchange. The new Petunia might be smarter than the old Petunia, but she still wasn't smart. Vernon had no reason to punish Petunia for this, she had given very appropriate answers to his questions. When would the woman learn that he was not an unreasonable man, he simply insisted on things being done his way?

Well, he would just hope that nothing more came of all this foolishness.


	2. Chapter 2

As usual, Petunia woke up well before anyone else in the house. Mornings were Petunia's favorite part of the day. For an hour or so depending on when the baby woke she could relax and pretend everything in her life was what she'd always hoped it would be. Later there would be so many demands on her time, so many chances to make costly mistakes. Petunia was still unsure what had happened last night. Why had Vernon asked so many questions about her sister? And, why hadn't this resulted in punishment? Petunia could only guess that she'd given the right responses expressed the proper horror and disdain to let her escape being punished.

Petunia hoped this wasn't a new game Vernon had concocted. Vernon didn't have many opportunities to punish her now. She had learned how to avoid just about every pitfall. Occasionally he made up an excuse regarding her cooking but even those were becoming harder to make believable as Petunia had blossomed into a superb cook.

However horrible Vernon might be, he had, so far, always tied his outbursts to a specific issue. Random acts of violence did not seem to fall into way of living. Petunia was grateful for that. But last night's questions made her wonder if he wasn't going to try entrapping her into a comment or act he could use as an excuse. She didn't this though.

Pouring herself a mug of coffee Petunia finally knew why Mum had liked that first coffee in the morning, it made getting up after only a few hours of sleep almost acceptable. Petunia headed out to get the morning newspaper...she would carefully refold it and replace it before Vernon got up. He didn't approve of her keeping up with the news. Of course, he would want her to go get the paper, but he wanted to be the one who read it.

Coming back in, humming under her breath, Petunia saw something odd. A basket sitting next to her door. Odd. She hadn't been expecting a delivery. Peering in she was stunned to see a small child asleep. His head was injured. An envelope stuck up from the blankets.

Setting her mug down on the porch, Petunia found her hands were shaking as she opened the envelope. 

_Dear Mrs. Dursley,_

It is my unfortunate duty to tell you that your sister, Lily Evans Potter, and her husband, James Potter, are dead. They were killed by Lord Voldemort, the wizard who is also suspected of having killed your parents.

For reasons I do not fully understand, this child, your nephew Harry, survived the attack that killed his parents.

He is, as you might imagine, in mortal peril. Lord Voldemort does not take kindly to people surviving his attacks. While it appears that Lord Voldemort has, for the moment, vanished, I do not believe that will true for long. Voldemort is not a wizard to be easily defeated. I believe he will return and he will try once again to kill Harry.

I am sure that you will want to raise Harry and treat him as one of your own. I want to assure you that as long as you provide a home for Harry, your family will be safe. Voldemort will not be able to find your home as he found your parents'. This home, as long as Harry can call it his, will be safe and when he is here, Harry will be safe. I have invoked an ancient magic to make this happen. Should Harry choose to leave you, or you for some reason decide not to provide him a home, I am afraid my magic will cease to protect any of you.

I believe you know how to call for an owl should you need to contact me. I recall you sent many letters to one of our students when your sister attended Hogwarts. Please know that I am always available should you have any concerns.

Your most humble and grateful servant,

Albus Dumbledore  
Headmaster  
Hogwarts School of Magic 

Petunia sat on the porch stunned. Lily was dead. Her husband…Petunia hadn't even gone to the wedding much less met the man…was dead. And THIS was their son...this was the Harry Potter Vernon had been asking about last night. Her nephew.

Petunia wiped tears away thinking about how much of Lily's life she had missed. She reached out a hand, pulling the blankets aside to see the face of the sleeping baby. She wound on his head looked painful. It had the odd shape of a lightening bolt. She thought how sad it was that he would never know his parents.

Suddenly the horrible reality of her situation hit Petunia. What would she say to Vernon? What could she say? She couldn't send the boy away. She had cut all her ties with Lily because of a magical potion. It hadn't been Lily's fault, but it was Lily who was hurt. She hadn't even been able to comfort Lily or take comfort from Lily when their parents were killed. So much had gone wrong in her life, Petunia was determined not to let this opportunity slip by her. She would raise Lily's child as her own. She knew it would be difficult, that Vernon would be awful, but she also knew she had to do it.

She re-read the letter, thinking that there was something in it she could use with Vernon. Something that would diffuse his anger and make him see that she did nothing wrong here, that her thoughts were only for the betterment of him and his son. Yes. It was there. It was subtle and it would depend on Vernon believing that the magic was real, but it was there.

". This home, as long as Harry can call it his, will be safe and when he is here, Harry will be safe. I have invoked an ancient magic to make this happen. Should Harry choose to leave you, or you "for some reason decide not to provide him a home, I am afraid my magic will cease to protect any of you. "

If they cast the boy out, their house might suffer the same fate as her parents. Inwardly, Petunia said a small "Thank You" to this Albus Dumbledore for being so clear.

Petunia took a few breaths to calm herself then rose, she trotted away to put the newspaper back in it's normal place midway up the walk. Vernon was impressed with the accuracy of the paper boy, often commenting that he had the makings of a good English worker...Vernon would be stunned to learn that, in reality, the paper was often under the car or lodged in the fence. It was just that Petunia always returned it to the same point midway up the walk. She picked up her coffee mug and downed the now tepid liquid in a three swallows...It was no problem to hold the empty mug while lifting the basket.

She brought Harry into the house and set his basket on the kitchen table. So far, there were no other sounds in the house. Dudley was still asleep. He might well sleep for another few hours. Dudley did little but sleep and eat. Even at this age he seemed to be asleep for 20 hours out of each day. The other four being spent eating, dirtying diapers and refusing to do what Petunia asked.

Reaching into the basket, Petunia lifted the baby out. He seemed so much smaller than Dudley had ever seemed. He stirred and mewed...she pulled him to her, tears streaming down her cheeks. Lily's son. Petunia lost herself in the moment until she heard the unmistakable sound of the shower running.

Vernon was awake.

Petunia steeled herself for this performance. She had gotten good at appealing to Vernon's ego. It would be a stretch to make the current state of affairs seem like something for which he could take credit, but Petunia had found Vernon was willing to stretch credibility quite thin if it meant viewing himself as superior to others.

Vernon pushed open the kitchen door to find Petunia clutching a too small baby, a dingy basket and a piece of what looked like parchment on the kitchen table.

"What in bloody hell is going on!" Vernon switched instantly to angry mode. Others might tip toe up on a situation and try to "make nice" but Vernon had found that to be a waste of time. Satisfactory answers only came after he got angry with people so why not just do it immediately and save all the bother?

"Oh, Vernon! You were right!" Petunia hastily put the baby in the basket and snatched up the parchment, holding it out to Vernon. "You were right! Yesterday when you said something odd was going on and you thought it might be about my sister! You were right!"

"'Course I was right!" Vernon's expression was an odd mix of arrogance and confusion.

Petunia pressed on. "Lily's dead!" She was unable to keep her voice from catching as the reality of what those words meant was now inescapable.

"What do you mean, Lily's dead?"

"She's dead! She and her husband were killed by the person who killed my parents! Here, read this! It's all here!" Petunia pushed the parchment into Vernon's hand, jabbing at the critical paragraph with a bony finger.

Vernon gazed at the parchment, his mouth silently formed words as he read. When he'd finished the part about them being protected if the kept the child, Petunia barged in.

"Read that part again, Vernon! What does that mean?"

This time, Vernon read the words out loud.

" This home, as long as Harry can call it his, will be safe and when he is here, Harry will be safe. I have invoked an ancient magic to make this happen. Should Harry choose to leave you, or you "for some reason decide not to provide him a home, I am afraid my magic will cease to protect any of you. "

"It's some kind of bloody blackmail it is! They can't do that!"

"What do you mean, blackmail?"

"This man is threatening us! He's saying we have to take this baby or our house will be destroyed with us in it, isn't he?"

Petunia took a couple of breaths, collecting her thoughts. This was almost the reaction she hoped for, but she had to make him see that they couldn't fight it.

"Blackmail? Should we go to the police? I mean….do they handle things like this? Would they take it seriously?"

Vernon had given up any pretence of looking arrogant and had settled quite firmly on a look of utter confusion.

"No, of course we can't go to the police! Can you imagine what they would say? Look…" Vernon decided to do something he never did, ask Petunia her opinion about something important.

"What do you think, Petunia? You know more about these people than I do. Do we believe what this Albania Dumbledoof says? Do we have to keep this…this… boy?"

"You didn't go with me to see what was left of my parents' house, Vernon. It was gone. Everything. Not a scrap of wood, not a bit of floor tile. Gone. It couldn't have just been "weather"…it couldn't."

"Alright, I understand that, it was those people your sister was with, I get that."

"No, Vernon, it wasn't the people she was with, it was people she was fighting. Don't you see? The letter says that the same person killed Lily as killed our parents. We can't let that happen here, to us…to Dudley."

"And you think this Albania person is on the same side as your sister? That she can protect us?"

"Yes, Vernon, I do. I remember hearing that name before. I think it's a man and he's the head of that school, see…it says "Headmaster" in the letter."

"But you think he can protect us?"

Petunia took a breath. They had never discussed magic and what it could do before. Since the potion had worn off, they had both pretended it had never happened.

"Yes, Vernon, I do. Powerful wizards can do things with magic that seem impossible. I do believe he can protect us."

Vernon seemed undecided. He slowly read back over the letter.

"Here, what does he mean you know how to summon an owl?"

"Yes, um, well…" Petunia looked down, hoping that looking properly frightened now would keep Vernon from becoming angry with her. "Well, that's how they communicate. By owl. Sort of like carrier pigeons. I sometimes needed to send things, you know. To Lily."

Vernon read that part of the letter again, thinking it didn't sound like Lily had been the recipient of Petunia's letters. Should he ask her? Vernon was pretty sure he knew to whom Petunia had been writing. If he asked her and she confirmed it, that would just open up the issue of how she ended up married to him in the first place.

"Yes, well…quite… If you're sure, Petunia.." He looked at her questioningly. She responded with a few rapid bobs of her head. "Then I suppose we have no choice but to keep the boy."

Petunia stopped herself from thanking Vernon. If he thought she was happy about this decision, he might well change his mind. "If you think that's best Vernon, then of course, that's what we have to do."

At that moment, a squawking noise signaled to the world that Dudley Dursley had awakened. Petunia looked toward the sound and then back to the basket. Vernon growled ominously before Petunia dashed for the nursery, leaving Harry sleeping peacefully in the basket.

Petunia made sure not to skimp on preparing Dudley for his day. She dressed him in the blue sailor suit Vernon had told her to buy. Barely a week old, the suit was already starting to be a tight fit. Petunia had to take extra care to get every bit of his nappy tucked into the pants. One thing Vernon never tolerated was seeing a bit of a nappy peaking out of his son's pants. Carrying Dudley into the kitchen, Petunia noticed how much heavier he felt than Harry. Yet, she knew that they were almost the same age. Lily had sent Petunia a card announcing the birth. Petunia had not replied, sending the owl off as quickly as she could and running the card down the disposal before Vernon could get back from the office.

"Here's Daddy's little man!" she forced herself to say with something resembling joy.

Vernon appeared to have spent the time staring at Harry in the basket. He looked up and gave a smile though at the sight of his son. Fine boy. Strong and healthy, not like that scrawny rat of a boy in the basket.

"Here's my Dudders!" Vernon hefted the large child out of Petunia's arms and gave him a big hug while she pulled a high chair from the corner.

"Let's just get you started on breakfast!" Vernon said, lowering the boy into the chair. The chair hardly seemed meant for such a healthy child. Vernon made a note to write the manufacturer a letter complaining that his son had outgrown their silly product in only a few months. Meanwhile, he'd have to get Petunia to find a more suitable chair for his son.

After Petunia had set Dudley up with a bottle of milk and bowl of cereal—which he quickly discovered were much more interesting as projectiles than food—she gave a glance at the basket and then looked at Vernon.

"I suppose there's room in the nursery for Harry?"

Vernon's nostril's flared dangerously.

She tried again… "Or the guest room, perhaps?" A low growl seemed to be coming from somewhere in Vernon's chest. "Or, not…I, uh…I suppose we'll find a place he can stay, then, won't we?"

"I will find him a suitable place. Understand something, Petunia, we may be forced to keep this child in order to protect ourselves, but he is never to be treated as an equal to our own son. I will not have you wasting time or money on this boy that should go to our son. Am I clear?"

"Yes, of course, Vernon, very clear. It will be like he's not even here."

"See that it is!"

At that moment a fairly loud cry announced to the world that Harry James Potter was awake. Vernon looked startled then immediately remembered to look angry. Petunia picked up the basket and gave a sniff.

"He'll need to be changed. I'll just take him then if you wouldn't mind watching Dudders for a bit."

Vernon glared. "I'm not a babysitter, Petunia, you hurry back here before Dudley needs anything else!"

Petunia rushed off to the nursery. She hurriedly dealt with the dirty nappy and got Harry cleaned up and ready in record time. Scurrying back into the kitchen with the basket, Petunia was happy to find that Vernon was helping himself to a cup of coffee while Dudley threw cereal across the room with one hand and hungrily sucking down his bottle with the other.

Placing the basket so it faced Dudley, Petunia pulled out another bottle and filled it up for Harry. She had no idea if he'd ever had milk before and she recalled the doctor making quite a fuss when Vernon had insisted it was time to give up nonsense like baby formula and start Dudley on regular milk. Still, she had no choice and hoped that the sudden change—if it was a change—wouldn't harm Harry.

Prying Dudley's bottle away for a quick refill—during which time he discovered the cereal was also edible—she then turned to Vernon.

"Now, Vernon, what can I get you for breakfast?"

Vernon had a distinct smirk on his face as he said "Toast and a 2 minute egg, Petunia, and tomorrow, please have my breakfast waiting when I come down. I am far to busy a man to be waiting around while you tend to babies."

Vernon felt quite strongly that while this turn of events was unpleasant in the extreme, it offered other rewards. It seemed unlikely that Petunia could adjust quickly enough to her new situation without his discipline. Yes, yes, there could be quite a few rewards in having Petunia try this juggling act.

Petunia set about preparing breakfast with similar, if less gleeful, thoughts. She had, in the space of an hour, become mother to twins. Twice the diapers, twice the feedings, twice the number of things to keep out of Vernon's way.

Surprisingly, the adjustments to routine came fairly quickly. Vernon had called from the office the first day to tell Petunia he had decided Harry could live in the cupboard under the stairs. Petunia—he said—was to clear space out today so the boy could sleep there tonight. Vernon made it quite clear that nothing was to be thrown out and nothing was to turn up in the spare bedroom. Petunia would simply have to re-arrange things.


	3. Chapter 3

While it had been quite easy to re-stack and re-organize things in the cupboard to make space for the basket and converting a low shelf to a changing station hadn't been hard, Petunia knew that eventually Harry would grow and need all the space she could find for him. Petunia was reasonably certain that Vernon would not be letting Harry into a regular room if he could help it. She set herself the task of removing one thing from the cupboard every day. Some things could, in fact, be thrown out—as long as she took the time to bury them deep in the rubbish bin so Vernon wouldn't see them. Other things could be relocated to different closets and storage areas. By going very slowly, Petunia hoped to accomplish her task without Vernon noticing.

Petunia found that Harry slept less than Dudley, which was quite fine with her. She scooped him out of his basket, changed his diapers and took him with her for morning coffee and the news. This gave her a chance to get him fed before Dudley woke up. She found that devoting any attention to Harry when Dudley was around had unpleasant results. She learned to change Harry's diaper while playing "Peek a Boo" with Dudley to forestall any crying.

The differences between the boys were striking. Harry was already walking when he came to the Dursleys, while Dudley had difficulty even pulling himself up to stand. Harry being able to walk had caused Petunia no small amount of concern considering the state of his cupboard. She had devoted the better part of one morning to clearing the floor of dangerous looking items she now had on one of the uppermost shelves. The boys had spent that morning together in the playpen. She knew that Vernon would not approve of them being put together, but it was her only hope of getting anything done. As she watched them interacting, almost playing with each other, Petunia knew it was too much to hope that they would ever think of each other as family. Vernon would, she knew, make sure Dudley looked down on Harry, treated him with scorn.

Petunia often asked herself if this life was fair to Harry. She knew that he would probably hate her as much as anyone for the way he was going to live. Harry was and would always be a second class citizen in this house. Really, not even second class. Petunia thought that class belonged to her. Harry fell somewhat lower on the ladder of acceptance and concern than even she did. There had been one bad day that first week when she'd picked Harry up and, without thinking, said "Here we go, Harry, dear, let's get you changed" only to learn a quite painful and memorable lesson: Harry was not to be called "dear" or indeed, to be spoken too with anything resembling affection. That, she learned, was to be reserved for her son, not the unnatural son of her unnatural sister. Some days, ignoring Harry didn't seem to be enough for Vernon. Petunia found herself heaping idiotic endearment on top of idiotic endearment at Dudley trying to satisfy Vernon. "Duddlikins" "Dudders" "Duddlywuddly"…she was embarrassed to hear herself. But Vernon was happy with it. Petunia could only imagine how this must be for Harry and she wondered if—someday—she might get the chance to tell him why he'd lived this way, why she had treated her own nephew so poorly. There seemed to be little choice. Petunia knew how unfair it was, but that letter had made it sound like a death sentence for both him and them if they sent him away.

As Harry grew, Petunia came to almost enjoy their mornings together. It wasn't long before he was able to help with setting the table and putting out food. Petunia remembered how she and Lily used to fix breakfast for their parents whenever they wanted something. First toddling and later striding about the kitchen putting spoons and napkins in place—even taking a hand at cooking bacon and eggs—Harry reminded her of the sister she'd lost. He didn't look like Lily at all, really, until he looked at you. Then you could see it. Lily's eyes, staring out of a face that had to have belonged to the man she'd never met: James Potter.

When the boys went off to school, life around the house settled down some. At least now, Lily got a few hours to herself. She was better able to keep up with the demands of housework and caring for Vernon now. Overall, a fairly stable routine was established.

Of course there were some issues. One day Harry had brought home a note from the office saying that a routine eye exam had shown he needed glasses. Petunia looked at the note with surprising dread. She could tell Harry was confused. How could she explain to him that it was these seemingly simple things which could end up costing her dearly if she made the wrong choice? She knew what Vernon would do: mark the box requesting government assistance glasses. Obviously he would never consider spending his own money to take Harry to an optometrist for nice glasses. Yet, if Petunia were to simply mark the box and return the note to school, Vernon might view that as making a family decision and she was absolutely not allowed to make family decisions. But, if she asked Vernon what to do, she would undoubtedly be informed of her stupidity and given a lesson to help her remember to never be stupid again. Things like this required planning and consideration.

Petunia had left the note on the counter for Vernon to discover himself.

"What's this then?"

"Oh, the school sent it. Harry needs glasses. Stupid, really, to send a note. Why don't they just fix him up with the government glasses? It's obvious that's all he needs. But, you know bureaucracy, they have to have papers for everything….so, will you be signing that or would you like me to do it?"

Petunia tried to keep her face neutral while she watched Vernon. She thought she'd phrased it perfectly. It wasn't a matter of Vernon being unwilling to put money into glasses, it was a matter of Harry not needing him to. It was Vernon's note to sign or give over to her to sign. She had shown she wasn't stupid and she'd shown it was Vernon's job to make the decision. She hadn't said Vernon was being cheap.

She could see he was parsing her words carefully, looking for some reason to be critical. He growled a bit as he realized there was nothing there.

"Yes, well…very well, why don't you handle it?"

"Of course." Petunia quickly marked the box and signed the note. "Harry, take this and don't forget to give it to your teacher tomorrow."

"So, I am to get glasses, am I?" Harry'd asked.

"Yes, Harry, you're to get glasses."

"Will Dudley be getting glasses too?"

"No."

"I thought I never got anything Dudley didn't get first."

Dudley had burst out laughing. "That's because nobody wants glasses you stupid git!" Petunia stiffened, and looked to Vernon. Surely that wasn't going to be overlooked? Surely Vernon would chastise his son? Petunia knew not to say anything herself, but she never imagined that Vernon would tolerate such nastiness in his home. She was wrong.

"Stupid weak eyed, git. Don't you mean, Dudders? See, Harry, Dudley doesn't need glasses because Dudley has strong eyes. Gets it from his dad. When I was young, I could see things a mile away. People from good parents don't have to wear glasses until they get old, Harry. Not like you."

Harry had run out of the room in tears. It took all of Petunia's self control not to run after him to, to hug him and tell him it was okay to wear glasses and it didn't mean his parents hadn't been good. She knew what would happen to both her and Harry if she did that, though. She had gone to the kitchen to get herself under control, using the excuse she needed to "do a bit of clean up."

Petunia considered sending that Dumbledore person an owl asking if he could make other arrangements for Harry. If it were done right, if Vernon could be convinced that it was now safe, surely Harry would have a better life somewhere, anywhere else.

This wasn't the first time Petunia thought about sending Dumbledore an owl and it wouldn't be the last. For one other thing was preying on her mind. There was no question, she thought, that Harry was magical. Even as a baby odd things had happened. Toys that were in Dudley's playpen had shown up in Harry's cupboard. Despite the 2 foot high fence she had strung across the door to keep Harry in his cupboard, sometimes he had shown up at her feet in the kitchen. The fence never looked like it had been disturbed. Harry had simply appeared in the kitchen.

Vernon, so far, had managed not to notice much. He was convinced there was something wrong with Harry's genes because—in addition to needing glasses—the boy always had messy hair. Petunia had cut it a number of times to no avail. Once, Vernon had cut it down so short the poor boy had looked like he'd been in a concentration camp, but the next day it was all grown back.

Petunia remembered things like that happening to Lily. She didn't want to think about what would happen when Vernon finally saw the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

Sadly, Petunia didn't have to wait overly long for even dimwitted Vernon to work things out. Not more than a couple of months after Harry started wearing his new glasses—and being teased for it by, Petunia was ashamed to say, Dudley among others—there had been a frantic call from the school. Harry had gotten onto the roof. No one knew how, but he'd done it.

Petunia didn't have the luxury of handling this by herself. Dudley would certainly tell Vernon if she didn't. Her only chance of not being punished herself was to put Vernon in charge from the outset.

She would have to call Vernon at the office. Just that alone was enough to get her punished. She had once called him to ask whether he would prefer beef or pork for dinner. She had never made that mistake again. Opening the phone book to the inside cover where all the important numbers had been written, Petunia steeled herself to make the call. Maybe, if she was vague enough, he would agree to let her handle it. Maybe, somehow, she could think of an explanation that would satisfy Vernon once Dudley had filled him in on the details.

As she heard the rings, she hoped he would be in a meeting. She would much rather leave a message with his secretary. He couldn't object to her being vague in a message—he would never want her to admit to the help that someone living in his home had apparently flown up to the roof of the school. And, he couldn't object to her going down to the school to handle it herself as long as she'd tried to let him handle it. Yes, that would be by far the best solution. Let him be in a meeting.

"Hello, yes, this is Mrs. Dursley, is my husband by chance available?"

Her heart sunk as she heard the secretaries cheerful "Why certainly Mrs. Dursley, let me put you through!".

Vernon didn't even bother to say Hello…clearly the secretary had told him who was calling.

"PETUNIA!"

"There's a problem at the boys' school." That seemed to have been a good approach because Vernon stopped screaming.

"What? Is it Dudley? It he alright?"

"No, not Dudley, Harry. Something about Harry. They say he's alright, but they want one of us to come. Shall I go then?"

She found she was crossing her fingers, trying to will Vernon to just say yes.

"What kind of problem? What did they say?"

"Well, it's a bit confusing, really…they say he got up on the roof somehow. I guess that's not allowed and they're sending him home. But someone has to pick him up, they won't release him on his own."

There, she hadn't lied but neither had she expressed the shock and confusion she'd heard in the Principal's voice when he called.

"Why the hell are they sending him home? Just for climbing up on the roof? That's ridiculous! I've half a mind to go down and talk to that school myself. Why burden you with the boy just because they can't keep him under control?"

"Oh, um…so, you don't want me to just nick over and get him then? I mean…your work is more important, don't you think?"

"What? My Dudley goes to that school too! I will not have my son going to a school run by idiots! I'll just wrap up here and go get him. Tell the school I'll be there in 30 minutes."

"Very well"

Petunia made the call. She felt sorry for Harry. When he heard that it was Vernon who was coming, he would be frightened. It would be best if Petunia wasn't caught looking worried about Harry, so she started work on this evening's dinner. It was to be an herb crusted rib roast. Vernon's favorite—though she only knew that because it was the one dish he ever suggested he make. She was busy chopping her freshly grown herbs when she heard the door slam announcing Vernon's return.

Holding her face carefully neutral, Petunia quickly wiped the knife and tucked it into the drawer. She'd never known Vernon to do anything truly dangerous, but over all, it was her policy to avoid providing opportunities.

She was tossing the various herbs with her fingers when the kitchen door opened.

"Everything go alright?" she asked.

"No, everything did not go alright!" Vernon was livid.

Petunia glanced over at Harry who looked a bit more disheveled than usual and who's right ear showed definite signs of having been twisted and pulled…

"Um…why not, dear, what was the problem?"

"The problem, Petunia, was there is no possible way this boy could have gotten onto that roof! They showed me where they found him. No ladder. No stairs. Not even a bloody drainpipe he could have climbed. They said he just popped up there!"

"Popped up there?" Petunia hoped her look conveyed confusion.

"Yeah" Vernon was positively growling now. "Popped up there. Some of the other boys were having a bit of fun with him, giving him a bit of a time about those new glasses of his and then POP! He was gone. Up on the roof! In the blink of an eye, they said!"

"Oh, dear" Petunia shot a quick glance at Harry but decided it was safer not to talk to him.

"What did Harry say?"

"WHAT?" Roared Vernon.

Petunia could see there was little hope of salvaging this conversation, but she had no choice but to press on.

"About what happened. What did Harry say when you asked him how he got on the roof?"

"Why would I ask him what happened? Isn't it obvious what happened? Isn't it obvious what he is?"

Petunia looked down and muttered softly "Yes, quite, I suppose. What should we do?"

"DO?" Vernon now had a bit of spittle frothing out of his mouth. "We bloody well teach him to STOP doing those things."

Harry, looking both frightened and confused, finally spoke up. "But I don't know how it happened! I didn't mean to get on the roof. I just thought I wanted to get away from them and then I was there. I don't know how."

"SHUT UP! Do NOT interrupt and do NOT try to explain!" Vernon grabbed the front of Harry's oversized shirt and pushed him back against the counter. Harry didn't make a sound, but Petunia knew that had hurt. The counter had sharp edges and just backing into it trying to get out of the way of a Vernon rampage hurt….actually being pushed into it usually left a bruise.

"Go to your cupboard NOW!" Vernon roared, his face purple. Harry didn't wait for a second command. He scurried quickly to his cupboard, closing the door.

Vernon was panting, calming down. Petunia poured him a glass of lemonade and held it out. "Are you alright? I hope you didn't upset yourself overly on his account." Petunia hadn't been able to decide how wide spread Vernon's anger was. Did he blame her? Did he suspect she'd already known?

As Vernon took the glass he gave her a grateful nod. Apparently he wasn't including her in his wrath. He also didn't seem to consider it was possible that she'd worked out what Harry was before he had.

"Vernon, do you really think we can teach him to NOT do something when he doesn't know what he's doing?" Petunia doubted this very much. She was convinced that awareness was essential to the learning process, but reminding Vernon that she'd studied education and had planned to go into teaching didn't seem like a good idea at the moment.

"Of course we can! Don't be stupid. Dog's don't know why you don't want them to piss in the house, but they can learn not to do it. Don't they? It just takes discipline. We just need to be firm with the boy. You watch! I bet we don't see anymore of this sort of thing from him again."

"I hope you're right, Vernon." Petunia's heart sank. She was sure that this wasn't over. "But, suppose something else does happen. What do we do?"

"Leave that to me."


	5. Chapter 5

In the ensuing years, Vernon had, indeed, had to "handle" a few situations. While it was obvious to Petunia that Harry had no control over his magic, it was just as obvious to Vernon that fear could prevent it from happening again. At least Harry was smart enough to follow her advice. He didn't ask questions. One thing she'd learned very early was that Vernon hated most questions. He especially hated questions which might require him to think about an answer. He did fine with questions like "Would you like some more tea?" but questions like "What happened to my parents?" or "Why am I living here?" resulted in angry, physical answers. As much as Petunia thought Harry wanted to ask these questions, she was glad to see Harry had the sense not to.

Petunia's concern grew to fear as the boys turned 10. She remembered that it wasn't very long after turning 10 that Lily had gotten the letter informing her that she was a witch and would be spirited away to some godforsaken school to hone her talents.

But, the year seemed to be going by with minimal trouble and as Dudley's 11th birthday approached, Petunia began to think they weren't going to be asking for Harry. Perhaps what that Dumbledore person had meant was that Harry had to stay at their house for the protection to work, that even going away to school would be enough to break the spell and put Harry—and the Dursley's—in danger.

Part of Petunia dearly hoped that this was the case. The thought of Vernon reading one of those letters telling the boy he was a witch—or, what was the word for boys? Wizard?—frightened her no end. However, Petunia couldn't help but think having Harry out of the house, among people with similar abilities—people who already seemed to care about him or they wouldn't have bothered to send him here—might be good for everyone concerned. Certainly it would give Harry the chance to find some happiness on his own. He'd had precious little of it living in this house and Petunia didn't see how that was going to change any time soon.

It might also be better for the Dursleys. So much of their lives was spent discovering Harry had done something, trying to hide what Harry had done, tattling about what Harry had done, punishing Harry for what he had done, punishing Petunia for daring to try to hide what Harry had done and being punished for trying to hide what Harry had done….well, they might all benefit from a change of pace.

As Petunia began preparing for Dudley's big day, she found she had a problem. She had made a note on the calendar last year of how many presents Dudley had gotten—he always had to have at least one more with each year and if he didn't, his unhappiness would be quite painful for Petunia—but now found that someone had apparently put a glass on that page or something. She couldn't quite make out what her note said. Try as she might, she just couldn't remember (though, she did recall that it hadn't been enough, that memory stuck with her). Was that a four? A nine? Oh, dear..it could be anything really, an 8, a 6, a 3…about all she could tell was it wasn't a 1 or a 7…Had she gotten him 33 presents last year? Or 39? Or what? There was no one she could ask. Dudley would cry that she'd forgotten him, that she didn't pay enough attention to him. Vernon would decry her as stupid. She could ask Harry, but she wouldn't. She hadn't been allowed to give Harry so much as a single birthday gift his entire life and while she was quite sure he had a vivid memory of Dudley's ever more extravagant load of gifts, she didn't want to hurt him even more by reminding him of it.

Well, she'd just have to take a guess at it. 36 seemed like an excellent and suitably high number to her. If she guessed wrong, she knew Dudley would complain, but she'd just be ready with a plan for more. They were going to go to the Zoo for Dudley's birthday and she could say she wanted him to pick out his last presents at the gift shop. That should satisfy him.

Harry, of course, would not be going to the zoo. Petunia supposed it would be different if the zoo didn't charge admittance for children, then Vernon might be willing to have him, but the zoo did charge. Harry would have to stay with Mrs. Figg.

Mrs. Figg had moved into a house around the corner just about the time Harry had been left on their doorstep. She was a kindly, if batty old woman who seemed to think the world of Harry. While most of the neighbors seemed to avoid the Dursley home—offering nothing more than a quick wave as they dashed into their cars or houses—Mrs. Figg had a habit of turning up on odd days to inquire how the "smaller boy" was doing. She seemed genuinely interested in Harry's schoolwork and health. Petunia had instinctively turned to her when it came time to find Harry a sitter. Dudley, of course, would never be left with a mere "neighbor" when Vernon and Petunia had a rare night out. Vernon's sister Marge was the only person Vernon deemed fit enough to care for his boy. Marge, however, would not abide having Harry for even an hour, making it necessary for Harry to go to Mrs. Figg's even when Marge was staying in their home with Dudley.

Dudley's birthday turned out to be one near disaster after another. Petunia learned that the number written on her calendar had not been 34, it had been 38. She was 3 gifts shy. Fortunately Marge had sent a gift along and he accepted the idea of picking out a couple of things on his own.

But, then, the phone had rung with the horrible news that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg. Petunia was at a complete loss.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend -- Yvonne?" Vernon had asked.

Yvonne? Imaginary Yvonne? Petunia hadn't mentioned her in years, not since Dudley had gotten old enough to report back to his father that her "Day with Yvonne" had, in fact, been a day at the library and the park with just Petunia and the children. Only Petunia's feigned anger at being stood up and her excellent performance of one half of a phone call going from indignant to concerned as "Yvonne" was discovered to have been in a minor car accident that morning and unable to meet her, had staved off Vernon's temper.

"On vacation in Majorca" Petunia had improvised.

There was nothing to be done. Obviously, Harry was going to have to go with them, the question was: would Petunia be held accountable? It was very important that Vernon believe that she had no desire whatsoever to have Harry come along. That could be trickier than one might think. Vernon wasn't going to jump on the "Harry's coming with us" idea by himself. She could see him staring blankly, unable to come up with any ideas of his own. First, she had to make sure Vernon understood that Harry couldn't be trusted to be on his own. Harry helped out by making that very suggestion.

"You could just leave me here"

Perfect! Petunia screwed her face into its most unpleasant look.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?"

Of course, she didn't think Harry would destroy the house, but she couldn't afford to take the chance. More, she couldn't afford to be seen believing Harry capable of anything more than the worst sort of behavior.

Now, to get Harry into the car, and then, the Zoo…

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Petunia slowly, "...and leave him in the car..."

Vernon finally seemed to click into what was happening.

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone..."

Ahh….very good! Harry was going to the Zoo. Petunia secretly hoped he'd enjoy himself, maybe get away from the other boys and have fun looking at the animals.

Sadly, that was not to be. Petunia hadn't been watching what happened in the reptile house. She wasn't a big fan of snakes and had, instead, stopped at a small display that said it contained 14 tree frogs. Petunia had only managed to find 7 when she heard sounds of a scuffle and turned to see an enormous snake slithering away from a group of boys that she recognized—with some panic—as Dudley, his friend Piers and Harry who was sitting on the floor as if he'd fallen or been pushed.

This was not going to be good. Petunia rushed forward, a quick glance at Harry showed him to be alright, so she threw herself on Dudley, hoping that an overly emotional show of maternal panic would be enough to pacify Vernon. It wasn't. That Piers boy didn't help matters by suggesting that Harry had been talking to the snake before it went off. Vernon completely lost the ability to make sentences as he sent Harry off to his cupboard to await punishment. Petunia scurried off to get Vernon a brandy without being asked. She assured him he deserved it after that scare, indeed, he deserved several. He seemed to agree. Petunia silently refilled his glass over and over knowing that, if he drank enough, he would forget that he hadn't yet inflicted any serious punishment on Harry. As his chin sunk to his chest and he let out a sloppy snore, Petunia breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't recall Vernon ever being that out of control before. She couldn't imagine what he might have done to Harry. While Harry was no doubt miserable in his cupboard, at least he wasn't bruised or broken.


	6. Chapter 6

Vernon eventually allowed Harry to leave his cupboard. Petunia thought the coming year might be good for both Harry and Dudley. Vernon had enrolled Dudley in his alma mater: Smelting's. Petunia suspected that the only reason they'd accepted Dudley was because Vernon's family had a long tradition at Smelting's. Harry, meanwhile, would be attending public school. Petunia had no doubt that this would make Harry's days easier.

One morning, as Petunia was preparing Dudley's awful hand me downs for Harry to use at school, things changed. Petunia had barely registered the bickering as the boys tried to get out of going for the mail. But, she could not ignore Dudley when his voice rang out.

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

It was an envelope. The envelope. Exactly like the envelope Lily had gotten all those years ago.

Vernon must have realized its importance because he lunged across the table, grabbing it out of Harry's hands. Vernon looked as though he was about to burst as he cried out for Petunia to come read the letter.

Petunia barely glanced at it, recognizing that yes, it was the same letter Lily had gotten.

Petunia remembered how happy Lily had been at that school and thought how just getting Harry out of the house for most of the year would probably make things better for her, but she knew she could not say this to Vernon.

Remembering how frightened Vernon had been at the idea that he'd been blackmailed into taking Harry, Petunia thought a bit of fear might help push Vernon in the right direction.

"Vernon," look at the address -- how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching -- spying -- might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

Ah! That was good. Now, how to get him to agree to let Harry go? Obviously, only Vernon could say those words first.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want --"

Petunia bit her lip. Reminding Vernon that she knew how to write them back might or might not be helpful at the moment.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything...

Petunia was sure this wouldn't work and tried a meek objection.

"But --"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

Petunia hadn't sworn any such thing, however reminding Vernon of that was not going to help anyone. Instead, she decided that breakfast still needed to be served and chores still needed to be done. She hurried back into the kitchen and eventually—with Harry's help serving breakfast—got Vernon off to work, Harry started on the laundry and Dudley off to visit with his friends.

Vernon had obviously given the "watching us" idea some thought and concluded that Harry living in a cupboard might not look good. Maybe he thought that the offer was meant to get Harry out of his less than fortunate circumstances and would be withdrawn if "they" saw that Harry was really just one of the family. Everyone—most especially Dudley—was stunned when he came home from work and announced that Harry would be moving into what had been Dudley's second bedroom.

While Petunia was secretly happy that Harry was finally out of that wretched cupboard, she did not for one moment think this was going to put a stop to the letters. She remembered when Lily's had first arrived. Their parents had no idea what to do, whether to agree to this or call the police or if it was a joke or what. The very next day, another letter had arrived. Then another. Then another. Eventually they had stopped showing up in the mail slot and had, instead, been flown into the living room by a series of large owls. It had taken them a week to decide that this wasn't some kind of sick joke and that Lily—who had a history of odd things happening around her, much like Harry—might very well be a witch and perhaps she should go. When they finally made up their minds they had the bright idea to just speak to the owl, telling it to stay a moment while they got their response. Petunia remembered that it was that moment—when the owl appeared to listen and obey—that their father had finally seemed to believe it was really true.

Sadly for Petunia, being right didn't help her circumstances any. The very next day, when Dudley was sent to get the mail….

"There's

another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive --'"

Petunia held herself back as Vernon and Harry engaged in a positive brawl for possession of the envelope. Petunia decided her place in this was simply going to be obey Vernon's orders. No more opinions, no more suggestions.

As the days ensued, Vernon's sanity seem to decline as the quantity and oddness of the envelopes increased. When Petunia cracked open an egg, fortuitously delivered just as she realized she was short the final egg in Dudley's 6 egg cheese omelet, only to find an envelope popping out like a butterfly out of a cocoon, she thought Vernon's head would explode.

That, however, paled in comparison to the Sunday morning appearance of seemingly hundreds of envelopes. Vernon got the idea they could run away. The family was pushed into the car and wildly driven out of town.

Petunia had a sick feeling this wasn't going to help. It was obvious that whoever sent the envelopes was keeping track of Harry's location. It seemed silly to think they would give up just because Vernon had a car. However, she wasn't ready to point this out just yet.

The family spent a moderately comfortable night in a modest hotel and Vernon seemed convinced he'd succeeded. He was looking very pleased with himself when the young woman from the front desk arrived to announce she had a hundred envelopes addressed to

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

At this point, Vernon seemed to lose any sanity he might have left. The family was once again piled into the car. This time Vernon didn't look as though he knew where he was going, he just looked as if he wasn't happy where he was. Even Dudley had caught on that his father was not behaving normally.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked after Vernon had locked them all in the car and gone stomping off in the dark.

Petunia was quite sure he had, indeed, gone mad; but she didn't think saying it out loud was a good idea.

The next few hours could best be summed up as a nightmare. Starting with the cold boat ride out to the deserted, run down shack, followed by the awareness that they didn't have decent beds and the ceiling overhead couldn't be counted on to keep much more than a few of the many drops of water out, combined with the certainty that the storm was only going to get worse and culminating in the arrival of what could only be called a giant. A huge, frightening man had torn the door off its one remaining hinge and personally delivered an envelope to Harry. In the course of the evening, Vernon had been called names, threatened and talked down to (something that had likely never happened in his adult life) and Petunia—exhausted, frightened and angry—had let all her old grievances with Lily and everything magical come out as she finally told Harry the truth about his parents. When the giant finally came at Vernon with—of all things—a pink umbrella, waving it madly causing a pink pig's tail to appear on Dudley, Vernon had rushed Petunia and Dudley out, leaving Harry alone with the horrible giant.

Vernon hadn't even begun to calm down until they reached the car. There, he sort of seemed to feel at least a little comfortable and the rasping, irrational sounds he'd been making had been reduced to the occasional swear word.

By the time they got home to Privet Drive Vernon seemed to feel he'd done quite well considering the circumstances. The dratted boy was gone after all. Who could feel bad about that? Dudley's tail was a bit of a problem, but Vernon had friends who had friends. He was quite sure he could find someone to take care of that without asking questions.

As Vernon poured himself a drink and thought more about how everything had worked out very nicely due to his keen handling of the situation, Petunia steeled herself to ask a question.

"What about Harry?"

"What? What do you mean, "What about Harry?"…

"Well, we, um….left him with that horrible huge man."

"Bloody right we did, woman! They were gettin' on quite nicely it seemed to me. He's clearly more that sort anyway. They'll be right happy together they will."

"mmm…Maybe"

"What do you mean MAYBE?" Vernon glared dangerously.

Petunia picked up the pace, returning to the ever reliable "fear" aspect.

"Well, I was just thinking about that first letter, you remember, don't you? The one that said we'd be safe as long as this was Harry's home?"

"Well, they've taken him, haven't they? They can't blackmail us anymore if they've taken him!"

Petunia could see this was going to be more difficult than she'd hoped.

"Well, you know, the student's don't live at the school all year."

"What? What are you talking about! They can't expect us to take him back now, can they?"

"Well, do you think we should ask?"

"ASK??" Vernon slammed his drink down and roared. "Who the hell are we supposed to ask??"

"Umm…that man, you know, the one that left the letter with Harry?"

"Just what exactly do you propose we ask him!" Petunia was glad to see Vernon was calming down a bit. Apparently he, too, was seeing that it might not be as simple as abandoning the boy on a rocky island with a giant.

"I suggest we ask him if Harry will be able to stay at the school during the breaks or if he is expected to return home…um, here, I mean… to us…and, I suggest we ask him if the protection he spoke of will stop if Harry, in fact, does not return here.

Vernon poured himself another drink and pondered the problem. Petunia wracked her brains for some way to make this sound like it was Vernon's idea.

"I mean, dear, if you're right and he's gone for good, we want to know as soon as possible don't we? I'm sure Dudley would be wanting that room back. It would be good to find out soon, don't you think?"

"hmmm…Yes, yes. I do want to know. Are you sure you remember how it's done?"

"Yes, I…we had to send many things to Lily every year, Vernon, it's not something one is likely to forget..um…I mean, yes, I remember how it's done."

"Alright then, go ahead, find out when we can redo that room!"

Petunia wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened. She was reasonably sure the response from the school would be that Harry was not only expected to spend every summer with the Dursley's but every winter and spring break as well. Lily had always come home for breaks.

"Vernon?" Petunia hated to ask, but knew she had to "Will you be wanting me to write the letter then? Or…"

"I most certainly am not going to be writing any letters to any witches or wizards! The very idea is ridiculous!"

"Alright. I'll just take care of it then."

Petunia scurried off into the kitchen, grabbing a pen and pad of paper from the hall secretary as she passed.

Pulling out her recipe file she flipped back to Z and pulled out the letter that had been with Harry when she found him.

Taking care to get the name exactly right, Petunia composed her letter:

Dear Mr. Dumbledore,

As you may know, Harry is in the company of your man now. Mr. Dursley and I are wondering if you would be so kind as to explain the living arrangements at your school. Would Harry be required to return to our home at any point in the school year, or will provisions be made to care for him there?

If you don't mind, we are also curious how the "protection" you mentioned in your first letter will be working with Harry living at school.

Thank you for your kind attention,

Petunia Dursley.

There, that was fine. Petunia was quite proud of the tone she had managed to convey. Clearly there was a belief that Harry would be staying at school, but she had not made it sound like he was unwelcome if it was necessary for him to return.

Very well. She toyed with the idea of asking Vernon if he wanted to read it but thought that this was something best gotten over with quickly.

She folded and rolled the paper up just as she used to do her letters to that awful Snape person. For the first time in many years Petunia let herself think about Snape, about the horrible thing he'd done to her. She wondered what had happened to him. She was sure he had become someone powerful and important. He was obviously too skilled not to. But, he was cruel as well. Whatever might happen to Harry at that school, she was at least glad that Severus Snape was long gone. Lily couldn't imagine a person Snape would hate more than the son Lily had with another man.

Cutting off a bit of cooking twine, she stepped outside to performed the ritual, just as Lily had shown her that first break. Putting herself next to a convenient rail for the owl to land on, she tapped the paper to the rail 3 times then held it up as high as she could and softly whispered "A message for Hogwarts". Not a minute had gone by before a small grey owl landed with a plop on the rail, nearly tumbling to the porch. It looked up at her proudly as it offered her its left leg. Petunia quickly tied the twine securely around the small leg, gave the bird a pat on the head (Lily had told her to always pat the owls, it showed them you were grateful) and said clearly "Please take this to Albus Dumbledore". The owl gave a cheerful "hoot" and took off.

Now, she just had to wait.


	7. Chapter 7

Petunia didn't have to wait long. It seemed impossible an owl could have flown to the school and back in so short a time. Of course, she really had no idea where the school was and she had no idea if that Dumbledore person was even at the school. Lily had said the owls were good at finding people.

Or, maybe it was just magic.

Petunia allowed herself a small chuckle as she undid the tie holding a note to the small owl's leg. She offered the bird a bit of meat left over from Dudley's dinner plate which caused the owl to hoot happily before taking off with its payment.

_My Dear Mrs. Dursley, (the note read)_

_What a pleasure it was to get your letter just now. As I'm sure you will learn soon, Hogwarts does not offer a summer schedule. Hagrid (my "man" as you so politely described him) will be returning Harry to you shortly. Once they have completed shopping for school supplies, Harry will—once again—be delivered to your doorstep. Harry will have all the information he needs to be transported to school on September 1, opening day._

_The school is open, if minimally staffed, during both Winter and Spring breaks. I would be delighted if young Mr. Potter would be so kind as to stay with us during those times. _

_As to your question about the protection. It is really very simple. As long as Harry's home is with you—his only remaining blood relative, the sister of his mother—the protection will remain throughout his childhood._

_From a practical sense, what this means is that as long as Harry "comes home" to you at least once a year and spends part of the summer at "home" the protection will remain. It is not necessary for Harry to spend the entire summer with you, only that he "come home to you" before beginning any other adventures._

_I do hope I have made this clear. If you have any other questions please feel free to send an owl at any time._

_Yours most sincerely, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

_Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizadry _

Petunia sighed. While this was far better than she'd hoped, it was clearly far worse than what Vernon had in mind. Just knowing that Harry would be showing up soon was probably going to be very upsetting for the entire household.

Still, it was probably best if he wasn't surprised.

Making her way to the library, Petunia stopped and poured Vernon a drink before approaching him.

"Here, you may want this" She held up the piece of parchment, knowing Vernon would recognize it was a response. "I'm afraid it's not very good."

Petunia hoped that by making it sound dark and dire, Vernon would focus on the better aspects of the letter. Contradicting her was one of his favorite hobbies—even if it meant pointing out that he wasn't getting what he wanted.

Vernon took the glass and tossed back half of the brown liquid. "What's it say, then?"

"Do you want me to read it?"

"No, blast it! Just tell me what it says!" With that, he finished off the drink.

"Well, Harry isn't gone. He'll be back today."

"WHAT?!"

Petunia hastily grabbed the glass and scurried over to refill it while Vernon fought to get his sputtering under control.

Handing him his glass, now more than twice as full as before, she took a breath.

"He'll be back today. I guess that this is just a shopping trip. School doesn't start until September first, and they don't have a summer session."

"You mean he'll be coming back here for the breaks! What the hell good is it to have him in the damned school if they won't even keep him?"

Vernon was getting a touch flushed in the face now and seemed a bit wobbly on his feet. Petunia directed him into a chair while appearing to study the letter again.

"Wait, look here!" She stabbed a finger at the letter and pointed it Vernon's barely focusing eyes. "You're right! It says the school is staffed during Winter and Spring breaks!"

Vernon didn't bother trying to work out how this made him "right", he just accepted that, as is so often the case, he was, yet again, right. "Of course I'm right, you foolish woman! Why would you ever think a school like that would close down for something so silly as Spring break?"

Petunia didn't bother reminding Vernon that her sister had always returned home for every break, or that, until recently, his knowledge of Hogwarts consisted solely of "it exists and teaches witches and wizards". If he now fancied himself to be an expert on magical schools, she was not going to argue with him.

"Oh, and Vernon, I'm forgetting…there's something else." Pretending to search the page again…"Here…it says he needn't spend the entire summer with us, as long as he comes home from school to be here… So, maybe he can spend some time away, I'm sure he'll make friends at school and the like".

"Friends! Hah. Bloody unlikely. Who'd want to be friends with that freak?"

Petunia thought this was harsh, even for Vernon and really wished the whiskey would get busy. Harry's return would go a whole lot better if Vernon weren't overly aware of it.

"Well, Vernon…don't you think **those** people might not think he's a freak?"

"Only because they're bloody freaks themselves!" Vernon pounded the now empty glass onto the end table, causing Petunia to jump just a bit.

"More, dear?"

"More WHAT?"

"To drink, dear…would you like more to drink?" Petunia knew that Vernon could hold his liquor—years of practice did that to a person—but she'd been very generous with her helpings and had already poured almost third of a bottle into him. She wanted to give him that little push into utterly unconsciously drunk, but thought it would be best if he asked for the last drink. That way, when he was hung over and angry tomorrow, she could honestly say it was his decision, she hadn't tricked him.

Vernon looked at his glass, seeming to have difficulty deciding if it was really empty or not. Shoving the glass toward Petunia he grunted "More".

"Of course, dear!" Petunia once more poured Vernon a drink. This time she kept it small as she didn't think he was going to need much more. His eyes were already starting to droop.

"Here you go…drink up now! Don't worry yourself, I'm sure you'll get this all under control tomorrow."

Vernon finished off the glass, looked blearily at Petunia and muttered, barely recognizable, "Morrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow! Why don't I see you off to bed now, I'll just straighten up a few things and then tomorrow we can work out the details."

One thing about being drunk, vague concepts like "work out the details" were easily shrugged off and words like "bed" seemed particularly attractive. Vernon allowed himself to be led to the bedroom and even helped into his pajamas. Petunia had just turned out the light when she heard sounds outside the front door. Wanting to avoid the doorbell being rung at all costs, she practically flew down the stairs, trying to call out "I'm coming" without actually yelling it….She threw the door open, ready to tell the giant he couldn't come in, only to find Harry standing there with a bag full of books and things she didn't recognize in one hand and a cage holding a beautiful white owl in the other.

"Go on then! Hurry up to your room! And don't wake your Uncle or cousin!"

Harry stepped in, confused. Uncle Vernon never went to sleep this early. Still, when he remembered the past few days, nailing up mail slots, driving cross country, rowing a boat to the middle of a lake, he could see how a bit of rest might be in order for his uncle.

Hauling his stuff upstairs was sufficiently tricky that he didn't think to ask Aunt Petunia any questions. Tossing his bag on the floor and setting Hedwig on the desk, he turned to find Aunt Petunia almost out the door. She pressed her finger to her mouth and whispered "I don't know what's going to happen. Please don't talk unless he speaks to you first." She backed out, shutting the door.

The next morning, Harry was back to helping Petunia serve up breakfast. Normally a breakfast for 4 people wouldn't require more than one person to make it, but since Dudley alone needed 6 eggs, a half pound of bacon, 4 biscuits and almost a quart of orange juice, 4 hands were better than 2. Uncle Vernon came in and glared briefly at Harry before sinking into his chair. Dudley came in, gave a squeak of fear only to have his father hush him! "There's nothing here to worry us, Dudley, don't even think about him, pretend he's already gone."

Dudley didn't have quite as easy a time pretending Harry wasn't there. But, then again, Dudley currently sported a pig tail that had to be uncomfortable when he sat down and couldn't have been pleasant under any circumstances. Harry decided that a frightened Dudley was far more pleasant than an angry, mean Dudley anyway. And, Uncle Vernon pretending he wasn't there was certainly more pleasant than Vernon yelling at him for no reason. Aunt Petunia seemed frightened and Harry wasn't quite sure why. He often caught her cutting nervous glances at Uncle Vernon as though waiting for something to happen. She got even thinner than usual in the weeks leading up to the start of term.

On the last day of August Harry thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er -- Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er -- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got

punctures, have they?" Harry didn't say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket."I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

Petunia held her tongue, knowing full well that Harry would be able to get to the train once he got to the station. She remembered those "back to school" trips from her youth and there were always loads of oddly dressed people about who she was sure were sending kids off to Hogwarts.

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

Harry tried desperately to suppress a grin at the thought of Dudley's tail and told himself that it was no doubt painful and embarrassing so he should definitely not find it funny. Turning, Harry raced up the stairs two at a time and flung himself on his bed, burying his laughter in the pillows. Tomorrow, he would be free of the lot of them. Scaredy Aunt Petunia, Angry Uncle Vernon and Piggy Tailed Cousin Dursley.

For the first time in his life, Harry went to sleep at Number 4, Privet Drive, with a smile on his face.

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning. The Dursley's however, stayed in bed until 7. Harry was almost in a panic thinking they couldn't possibly make it to the station on time. Of course, they did.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

Petunia glanced around and, as expected, noted any number of oddly dressed sorts bustling youngsters loaded to the brim with trunks and animals. Harry would have no trouble finding someone to help him, once Vernon got out of the way. Harry, in his oversized clothes, government issued glasses and that nasty scar on his head couldn't fail to attract attention and sympathy from this group.

Petunia found herself suppressing a smile as she thought that, for awhile at least, things would be good for both her and for Harry. Once he got on that train, Petunia would have less to worry about and Harry would certainly be having adventures.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile.

Vernon came toward her, laughing a nasty laugh. Petunia allowed herself to laugh too, though she knew full well she wasn't laughing at the same thing at all. Vernon would never know and it felt good, after all that had happened, to laugh.


	8. Chapter 8

Owls. Three of them. Owls. Petunia had padded into the kitchen early Christmas Eve morning to begin preparation for this evening's dinner—Vernon's horrible sister Marge was coming over and Vernon insisted on a huge feast, Petunia would likely be in the kitchen all day—only to see them sitting outside the kitchen window. Owls. The largest gave a hop when she turned on the light. She could see a note tied to its leg. Hastily grabbing a few crackers from the tin, she went out, looking about the still mostly dark neighborhood to see if anyone might have noticed the unusual appearance of so many owls on her porch. She distributed the crackers and untied the note.

"Thank you", she patted the owl's head, expecting it to take off. It didn't. It blinked patiently and appeared to be waiting for something. Petunia realized she was getting cold and that standing outside early Christmas Eve morning in a housecoat was probably not a good plan for general health. "I'm going in to read this" she told the large owl. Stepping back into the brightly lit kitchen she unfurled the note.

"My Dear Mrs. Dursley,

It occurs to me that you may not be familiar with the customs we have at Hogwarts over the holidays. As I recall, your sister always returned home during the breaks.

It is customary for those children who remain in our care to receive their Christmas gifts at breakfast Christmas morning. I have instructed this owl—her name is Genoa by the way—and her friends to bring your gifts for Harry. Of course, I understand that you were not expecting me to send owls, so may not have Harry's gifts wrapped and ready for delivery. Please believe me that the owls will not mind waiting.

I wish you and your family a most safe and happy Christmas.

Respectfully,

Albus Dumbldore

Headmaster

Hogwarts School of Wizadry and Magic"

Petunia glanced out at the owls. Vernon was sure to be up soon and she had to get the owls away before he saw them.

Since leaving Harry at the station, life on Privet Drive had been quite tolerable. Of course, Vernon spent a great deal of time talking about what a smashing good idea he'd had in sending Harry away to school. Petunia hadn't minded that one bit and, in fact, had encouraged Vernon whenever he mentioned it. When he was happy with himself, Vernon wasn't at all unwilling to have Petunia be a bit happy on her own. So, Petunia had resumed her habit of going out for days with "Yvonne". Vernon didn't question why "Yvonne" had suddenly become so available, leaving Petunia free to visit the library, even take in an occasional movie. Life had been as pleasant as she could recall since they had moved to Privet Drive. Or, rather, life had been the least unpleasant she could recall and Petunia did not want anything to endanger that.

She was quite sure the sudden appearance of three owls—and the news that they were not going to leave without Christmas presents for Harry—would be unpleasant. Casting her eyes about the kitchen, Petunia tried to think of something she could send that would pacify the owls. Spying her change purse, she pulled out the largest coin she had. Grabbing a piece of paper, she wrote a short note.

Harry had sent a "I'm here and safe" note shortly after arriving but Petunia hadn't answered it, fearing the neighbors might notice the owl hanging about. Now, she had three owls hanging about and barely time to write a note, much less explain to Harry why he was getting such a meager present—or even any present. She knew that Harry wasn't expecting a present. Vernon had never permitted her to buy him one. He would probably take the gift as an insult, but she didn't have any choice in the matter. Unmistakable noises of a plumbing nature told her that Vernon was awake and would be down soon. She quickly signed both her and Vernon's name to the note, taped the coins to it before folded it up and going to the owls. Tying the note to the leg of the largest owl, she kept her voice low but sure "Here, now, Genoa, there was no reason for so many of you to come! Feel how heavy this is? Genoa seemed to think about that, testing the weight on her leg Well, it's very valuable. It's money. Harry will be happy to have it, but it won't take all three of you to fly it back, see? So you can all get going then? Right? Thank you, very much" She gave Genoa one more reassuring pat on the head. Much to her relief, the birds gave a hoot that sounded distinctly affirmative before taking off. The other two owls bowed their heads to her before following.

Hurrying back inside, Petunia had to hustle to get caught up—tea and coffee made, breakfast started—before Vernon descended the stairs.


End file.
